u like to try it on?”
I examine it again, then look back at the racks and racks of dresses, and decide I don’t have the energy. I get so overwhelmed shopping for myself, I don’t know how I am going to handle planning my own wedding someday. Maybe Hunter and my mom can do it. Honestly, I don’t care a thing about dresses or makeup or flowers or what the cake looks like as long as there’s a ton of good food—preferably hot dogs and burgers and lots of cheese. And carrot cake.
“This dress will work fine. If anything, it will be too big.”
“That’s the most sense you’ve made all morning. Come on, let’s pay for the dress and then get some lunch.”
“OK, but maybe just a salad. I’m not hungry.”
Mom shoots me a look. “I’ve barely seen you eat since swim season ended. We’re getting you a bucket of fried chicken.”
We pay for the dress and examine the food court for the highest calorie food we can find and finally settle on noodle bowls followed by ice cream.
“You’ve been distant ever since you went on the pill and I feel responsible. Did I do the right thing?” Mom asks, half way through her bowl of mint chip.
I shrug. “Yeah, I think so. I mean, nothing is ever going to happen but it’s probably a good idea nonetheless. But that’s not why I’ve been distant.”
“Are you having second thoughts about signing with state? Would you rather do it privately instead of having to sit next to Coach Ford? It’s pretty stupid they have to film it for the news. I can call the whole thing off.”
“I’m still interested in going to state. It’s just that…do you think the TV camera will pick up on the feelings of a high school girl who is desperately in love with her swim coach and cannot do a thing about it?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom sighs.
“Are you going to tell me to get over it? Because I’m afraid it’s hopeless.”
Mom reaches over the table and grabs my hand. “Honey, I’m not going to tell you to get over it. I am going to tell you to do what you need to do to get through it. It sucks. It hurts. But if it’s meant to be, you’ll have your moment. I can’t say when, and I can’t say I endorse this, but if he feels the same way? Well, you’re eighteen, you’re about to graduate, and there’s nothing I can say about it. But be prepared for disappointment. He’s not going to want to lose his job over this, not after coaching a winning team.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you too.”
* * *
The signing ceremony takes place in front of four local reporters: one from the TV news, two from area newspapers and one from a local sports magazine. Our town is not a big city, but it’s not small by any stretch.
Coach Ford and I are seated at a folding table that’s been decorated with the school colors. Also there in attendance: a college recruiter, the state college swim coach, and a representative of the NCAA.
While the NCAA person is talking, I mutter to Coach Ford, “Slow news day, I guess.”
I expect him to chuckle good-naturedly in response but instead I feel the heat of his gaze on me. I glance over and there’s the signature look he gives me when I’m being self-deprecating. “Shermer, look out there,” he says, gesturing to the crowd. “Do you realize you’re the only scholar athlete in Greenbridge who’s going to be on TV tonight? Memorize this moment.”
Was that a wink? A smile? More like a grimace. I decide it’s something close to a smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He dares to let his eyes travel downward. Just barely, but I notice it. His eyes land on my ruffled neckline. He sees me catch him staring, and he doesn’t look away.
And then we are swept up in the signing ceremony and the moment is gone. My cheeks heat as I go through the motions, but all I can think is one thing: He likes my dress.
26
Weston
Purple. My new favorite color.
I wonder what she’ll be wearing to prom.